Page 9

Chapter Eight

A ndrew placed the stone back into the wall, and without opening the book or leafing through the papers, waved for me to follow him into the dim tunnel. I would have peeked inside, but that was me, and maybe that wasn’t how archeologists acted when they found a new clue. Perhaps he needed special rubber gloves or clean hands before paging through it.

“What are those papers?” I asked.

“Letters from Augustine. The wax seal has a ship battling a sea serpent and the inscription ‘ Non timeo. Inveniam viam meam ad vos ’—I’m not afraid. I’ll find my way to you. It’s Pérez’s monogram.”

We made our way down the stonewalled corridor; Andrew’s small but powerful flashlight and my phone the only two light sources. The passage wasn’t as narrow as it’d first appeared, and Andrew and I could have walked side by side, but we didn’t. Instead I let him lead the way just in case there was some danger or booby traps. He was also great at removing thick gray curtains of cobwebs that hung across our path.

“What about the book?”

“I don’t know. It could be Jorge’s Bible.”

“It could also be a hollow-book safe with a cutout to hide things.”

“Could be.”

“Don’t you want to check it now?”

The curiosity boiled up inside me to the point that I wanted to rip the book from under his arm and check it myself.

“Yes, but I’ll go over everything once we’re in a safer place.”

“Can I help?”

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Where did that come from? I didn’t know how I could help him. I had no knowledge of Augustine’s history, besides what little Andrew had shared, but a small part of me wanted to be involved more with this—I cringed at the thought of what I was about to call it—adventure.

“Yes, but not here,” Andrew said. “Don’t forget we left a mess and probably should leave this town in a hurry.”

I checked my watch. It was five after five. Oomph . I smashed into Andrew’s hard body, dropping my phone.

“What’s wrong?” I picked up my phone and peered around him. The tunnel split into three. “Well, shit. Is this a maze?”

“I don’t think so.” Andrew tilted his head to the left, then to the right.

“So there are just different routes of escape? Where do they lead?”

He glanced at me with a smile. “Let’s find out.” After a beat, he went straight. I hurried after him.

“Why did you pick this way?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

Andrew was a confident man. Except for this morning when Richard and Brie had stopped at our table. The change in Andrew wasn’t just anger. There was some underlying alarm. Or maybe even hurt. Andrew had said Richard was looking for the same treasure, but my gut feeling was there was more to the story. It wasn’t only about the money or who discovered the historical artifacts.

“What’s your problem with Dr. Dickhead?” I said as we trekked through the tunnel. “And you’re in a church, so you can’t lie.”

“We’re no longer under the church. We’re under a different building now.”

We continued moving through the dark passage. Tree roots started catching my hair and grazing my bare shoulders, and my shoes caught on a few stones on the floor.

“Are you not going to answer my question?” I jabbed my finger into his extensive back.

“Are you not going to drop it?” A hint of irritation threaded through his voice.

“Nope.”

“Christ.” He shook his head, and I could practically hear his eyes rolling back. “Richard decided to make money by working for private collectors. I believe that certain, if not all, discovered artifacts should be displayed to the public to share knowledge of history. Unfortunately, most of the time we’re searching for the same things.”

“You already told me that story. I don’t think that’s the reason.”

He released a grumbly sigh. “And he slept with my girlfriend, then married her.”

I sucked in a breath. “Oh, shit.”

“Yes,” he said. “Total shit.”

The puzzle pieces began to fit in place, and just one was missing. I knew the answer but had to ask. “Was it Brie?”

Andrew slowed and removed stubborn cobwebs off bulkier roots. “Yes. But I moved on.”

Obviously not.

The passage veered to the right, and we came to an avalanche of dirt and rocks from the collapsed ceiling. No way to go around it.

“Fuck,” Andrew muttered. “We should try one of the other ways.”

I shadowed him back to where we started. “How long ago was it?”

“It’s ancient history. Let’s keep moving.”

“But you’re happy now, right? Do you have?—”

Halting, he turned to face me. “I’m happy.” He stared down at me, his lips pulled into a flat line. “Please, let’s move on.”

Wow. It was clearly a sore subject, but so many questions buzzed in my brain. How long ago had it happened? How had Andrew and Brie met? And apart from being a bitch for cheating on Andrew, I wanted to know what she could possibly find attractive enough in Dr. Dickhead to let Dr. Andrew Oliver Jones go. Andrew’s name even sounds better.

I shrugged. “Okay.”

Andrew and I returned to where the tunnel branched and picked the tunnel to the right. For a few minutes, we zigzagged in heavy silence until we discovered a dead end. We retraced our steps, tried the left turn, and soon came to a solid wall again.

Well, shit. Was the broken ladder the only way out?

“We must have missed a hidden door or a turn.” Andrew slid by me and marched in the direction we came from. “If you hadn’t distracted me with your questions, we wouldn’t have missed it.”

“I was trying to get to know you.” I rushed after him. “We’re stuck together for a few days, so we might as well learn some things about each other. Is there anything you would like to know about me?”

“Where is your mute button?”

I huffed. “Don’t be a di?—”

“Shhh.” He raised his hand and stopped. A low hubbub of laughter, shouting, and a music boom reached us. “You hear that?” he whispered. “We must be getting closer.”

We made a few steps, and a turn to our left appeared out of nowhere. How in the world did we miss it the first time? The noise of a crowd was unmistakable now. Before long, we made another turn and reached a small space with steep steps leading up to a trapdoor and walls boarded with planks like old mines in Western movies. Andrew stepped up and leaned his shoulder into the door. After another try, something heavy slid on the other side, and the trapdoor opened.

Andrew went first, and I climbed after him into a storage room full of boxes of different food cans, cases upon cases of liquor, and the noisome stench of cigarettes. He lowered the panel, and its outline vanished from the view in the grimy floor.

“Wow.” I stepped around it, my eyes searching for the secret door contour. “This is incredible.” I leaned down and traced my fingers over the grooves and cuts on the wooden floor. “All this time it’s been here, and nobody knows about it?”

“Someone knew about it since they took everything hidden under the church.”

“Not everything.” I nodded at the leather book and letters securely wedged under Andrew’s arm.

“True.” Andrew walked to the only door in the room and cracked it open.

I tried to dust off the dirt of my dress. It was pointless. My white dress was ruined, and I was sure I bore a resemblance to a corpse bride.

We walked into a dim hall, stale cigars and the reek of cigarette clogging my nose. Andrew shut the door behind us, and at that moment, a door on the opposite side swung open. A lanky man with heavy stubble appeared, zipping his jeans. He stopped and threw us a questioning look. Andrew gave him a short nod. The man mumbled in Spanish and went past us. We followed him into a seedy, dark pub with mismatched tables and chairs occupied mostly by men. William was a head taller than everyone else, so I quickly located him. At the bar, he was carrying on an enthusiastic conversation with a bartender, six shot glasses between them. Four were empty, and two were filled with a dark liquid. What the hell was he doing here?

A frustrated groan left my mouth.

William’s hazel eyes met mine, he grinned and said something to his new friend. They picked up glasses, saluted, and took a swig.

Andrew grasped my hand, threading his fingers with mine, and led me to the bar. At his firm grip, a longing I never imagined I could feel for this man shot through me, from my heart to the tips of my toes. And I didn’t know what to make of the foreign feeling, but I welcomed it.

“Here is Rick O’Connell and…” William paused scrunching his nose, “what’s the woman’s name from The Mummy ?”

“William?” I hissed. “What the hell happened to watching our stuff?”

“No worries, I found a trustful boy to keep an eye on our car.” He gestured to two empty seats near him. “Care to join me for a drink?”

“We need to leave. Now.” Andrew withdrew several bills from his wallet and dropped them on the bar.

* * *

When we stepped outside, it was to find that the sun had made its way around the mountain, dazzling the skies with brilliant colors of orange and blazing red. The streets had got busier with people, relaxing at cafés, chatting near shop doors, or rushing somewhere, carrying grocery bags. The delicious aromas of grilled meat and fried food flooded the air and my senses, making my stomach growl. Strangers threw us concerned glances as we marched in the direction of the alley where William had left our car with a boy to whom he’d apparently given fifty dollars to watch our stuff.

“OMG. Adriana, look at yourself.” William’s eyes bugged out as he saw me properly in the light, and he slapped his hand over his mouth. “Did you crawl through a graveyard?”

Pretty much.

I glanced down at my dress, and my body deflated like an old balloon. My once-white dress had streaks of black and brown, twigs stuck to its fabric, and a small tear at the hem.

Fuck.

“It’s not so bad.” I sighed.

I liked this dress a lot. At whatever hotel we found to stay at, I’d soak it in the water and scrub it with soap to ease dirt out of the fabric. In the past, I had removed much worse things from my clothing, like red wine, blood, and someone else’s puke. Dirt didn’t scare me.

Andrew settled behind the steering wheel and slid the found book between the driver’s seat and the console. To my surprise and great relief, our suitcases were untouched.

“Can we find a store and buy club soda?” I said, opening the passenger door. “I want to get some spots out before I wash it.”

Andrew gave me a once-over. “Try gasoline.”

“Really?” I stared at him with confusion. “It works too?”

“Yes.” His smirk deepened. “With a match, you light it on fire.”

I scowled at him. “You owe me a dress.”

William reached out and dusted something off my head. “You have cobwebs in your hair.”

I sighed and swore under my breath. I probably had cobwebs in other places, too.